Protector
by Luke Aran
Summary: Anduin of Astora seeks to escape his troubled past through aiding others, but how will he escape his personal demons?


Snow swirled around my boots as I rose, gracefully sweeping my arms over my head, from the earth. I fingered the thick, woolly material of my cloak as the chill air bit at my face and wrists where they were exposed.

"At least I'm dressed for the weather," I murmured, quickly taking stock of the situation.

I had appeared in the doorway of a small building on one side of a shallow gap, which was spanned by a short stone bridge. The doorways across from me stood slightly ajar, and flurries of snow eagerly swept into the dwellings. To one side was a larger stone building, whose purpose was unclear. Of my host, there was no sign.

I knelt, searching for some sign, perhaps bootprints, in the snow; I rose disappointed. The snow was falling too quickly for any track to last long before being obscured.

Sighing, I started across the bridge. A trail of frail bodies lay strewn across the path and, since that seemed as clear a sign as I was likely to receive, I began picking my way forward.

I paused next to a corpse which was slightly larger than the rest, my face contorting into a grimace of disgust when I identified the creature. Large and heavily armored, these "crow knights," as I had dubbed them, were as quick as they were strong, and more than a match for unwary travelers. This one had had its skull smashed in, and there was a massive dent in its chest where the armor had split and the creatures ribs had caved in. Though quick and strong, the creatures possessed brittle bones, which were easily shattered when force was applied, as appeared to have happened here.

I stood and, for the first time, noticed the black iron gate ahead of me swinging open in the breeze. Clearly my host had picked his way over and across the rooftops already, leaving the shortcut ahead wide open. Why had I been summoned so far back? I was familiar with the area, and there were several closer places where one could perform a summoning ritual, not to mention a bonfire not too far ahead. The clashing of sword on shield broke me from my thoughts, and I started toward the large, church-like building slightly to my right.

As I my eyes adjusted to the lower light, I made out a tall figure bearing a mace and shield, barely holding off a ferocious assault from a strangely ethereal knight, whose greatsword was wreathed in black flames. I moved to attack, sliding my sword into the knights back…

My blade passed right through him and, off balance, I tumbled to my knees. What was this? Returning to my feet, I slashed repeatedly at the knight, watching in disbelief as every blow seemed to pass right through him. He ignored me and continued to pound mercilessly on the mace-wielder, whose shield shivered and cracked as I watched. As he turned to flee, I threw myself between the tall man and his aggressor in a last ditch effort to save him regardless of the danger to my own life. The knight stabbed forward, the flames on his blade leaping high as it pierced my body up to the hilt- and didn't stop. The knight's whole body passed through mine without offering the slightest sensation, and his blade skewered the tall man where he stood. The mace dropped from suddenly limp hands, and his body slid cleanly from the blade and fell to the ground before dissolving into ash, blowing away on a current of wind.

"So there you go. The reason I devoted myself to the Gods. And the reason I was able to aid you today." I pried my gaze from the flickering flames of the bonfire to meet those of my current companion across from me. "I learned that day that there are some battles which we can't fight for others, no matter how determined we are. When I learned of the power of miracles, of the ways in which I could heal others with a prayer, and the ways in which I could enhance their own strength even when I could not fight with them or for them, I knew that I had to learn. To become faithful. And to pledge myself to Gwyn." Hefting my sword in my right hand, I noted the blades smooth lines and sharp edges, even as I saw the worn hilt and dull crossguard. Though I had replaced them many times, and would likely do so again in the near future, the blade itself had never been sharpened or replaced and was the same as when I had found it so many years ago. Whether this was due to my then-new faith or some other, hidden power was unclear, but it had served me well; I suspected it might be hundreds of years old, though I knew no metal which could sit that long without rust.

Shrugging off my inner contemplation, I returned the sword to its scabbard and extended my hand into the tips of the flames, letting them lick my hand. Without hesitation, the other did the same, grasping mine firmly in the midst of the crackling bonfire.

"I think we'll get on just fine," Lupa smiled.


End file.
